Attention
by TamoraGregory916
Summary: Alex is a 16yrold with a lot of issues. His abusive father decides to send him to Military Academy and just maybe knock some sense into him. Everyhing seems alright at first, but what happens when he meets Pam Stevens, and his world is turned upside down!


This is my first Prison Break fic! Asides from the summary here's a little background!! Alex is 16 and from Detroit, his father is abusive and has hit him almost as long as he can remember. In an act of desperation he signs up for military academy, his only means of escape. Please please please review!!

Happy Reading TG916

The shaky, cool glass rattled against the metal pane it was set in as the bus rolled its way around the winding hills. Alex tried to set his head against it, attempt to get some rest before he arrived but the bumps didn't allow for it. He straightened himself up again besides, he thought, the noise wouldn't help any either. The bleak October morning sky sat dully on top of the rolling hills of the Virginia countryside. Alex looked for the sun, his eyes darting at different points in the sky, but he couldn't find it. It was buried too far underneath the thick blanket of clouds.

"Nasty bruise freshman."

Alex turned his head to the noise behind him and saw a young man peeping his head from in between two of the coach seats.

"That's some shiner. Someone's got a right nasty grudge against you, sucker."

Alex touched gently as the greenish- yellow bruise that decorated the left side of his face. The boy who was asking all of the questions looked much younger than Alex himself. His skin was the colour of an espresso and freckles speckled the bridge of his nose, like the nutmeg powder they top the espresso off with.

His eyes stayed fixated, not darting around the room like Alex's.

"Yeah, well I got into some trouble."

Alex heard the boy crack his knuckles from behind the seat and a small smile flickered in the boys eyes.

"Your daddy's got a short temper."

Alex chewed on the Wrigley's gum he had had going since they coach had left early that morning. His eyes now stayed locked in on the other boys, a warning not to take the subject any further. Usually this put any sorry sod off of his words, but not this boy.

"My daddy had a short temper with my mama, but he always kept off me. My mama would be covered in seven different kinds of colours, as black as she was, but I was safe from Colonel Dunkin."

The name set a light bulb off in Alex's head.

"Colonel Dunkin? Your dad is the head of William-Hurth Academy."

Again the laughter flickered through his eyes.

"Well the investors run the Academy, but my daddy gets to give out the punishments. Chris Dunkin, second year cadette."

He pushed his hand through the small space where his face had been and Alex took it, giving it a loose shake before it slipped through the crevice again.

"Alex Mahone."

This time the face appeared over the top of the seat. Chris's clean crew cut, and the top of his khaki uniform jacket now were visible. Alex turned and stood on his knees, now eye level with the boy. Alex had always made up for his youth in his height, and at fifteen stood six feet tall.

"Now there's a soldier boy. Look at that cut. Precise, boy, very nice."

Alex rubbed a hand over the newly shaven head. He gave a thanking smile, but truly hated the thing. He usually wore his hair a bit longer, still short but a lot more than the peach fuzz that came out of the top of his head now. Getting him to the barber had been an ordeal enough.

"Now you, boy, have an advantage in hereby making an acquaintance with me. I'm a junior here, not quite at the top of the food chain but enough to help you out. If I had had a me when I was in your shoes, well, first I'd tell him he's a fine looking son of a gun and then I would thank my lucky stars."

Alex looked up at Chris in slight disbelief. Being bottom of the ladder wasn't a position that Alex was used to. When he came in a room, people damn sure took notice. He then smiled, he figured that Dunkin was inclined a certain way.

"Nice try. But no thanks."

The look on Alex's face must have said it all. Chris's mouth pursed and the slightest hint of a vein popped out of his temple.

"This ain't prison, fish. It'll suck just as bad, but I'm not looking for a bitch. I got a girl waiting for me as soon as I step off this fucking bus."

Dunkin's eyebrows raised slightly as he said the curse. He was still enough of a gentleman to refrain from it.

"You've made me all crazy now. Consequences, boy. Always think of the consequences. That's one thing your going to have to learn as a fine student of our academy. Think before you speak, think before you do, and most of all think before you think because these soldiers, they're smart."

With that he sat back in his chair, and turned his attentions to the scenery outside of the bus. Alex slid down his seat again and tried to fight off the urge to crack up. The whole speech was a load of bullshit. Besides, how could any of the freaks sitting around him be sharp shooter soldiers.

An hour or two later the bus began to wind down to a grinding halt. Alex was jerked away by the sound of screeching metal, to find two massive irons gates were being pulled back. A set of armed guards sat either side of the gates, their uniforms pressed like plastic and their guns poised at their sides. They saluted the bus as it made its way through the gates and down the long road to the school. The building itself looked like a pinprick from where the bus was. He and the other first pressed their faces up against the glass windows, as eager as children at Christmas. The bus chugged along and the pinprick became bigger and bigger.

A large flag post stood on the main lawn and a giant American flag flapped in the wind, underneath a smaller flag, which looked like the school motto. A large forest green background with a silhouetted man with a bayonet saluting. The motto read underneath in small block capitals

'Serve well, Protect all'

The flag was inspiring enough, but the building behind set Alex with a fierce feeling of patriotism. The building stood erect and proud and looked over the training grounds to its left and right with pride. It looked almost like an old plantation, there were no columns but the white stucco and large wide windows made it appear so. Students littered the front steps, but looked awkward with their stiff uniforms making it hard to sit on steps properly. A group of soldiers jogged past, perspiring in the late summer heat. The stepped perfectly to one another and the lines stayed sharp and neat as a drill sergeant ran slightly behind them calling out.

"Keep to it!"

His voiced boomed over the field and Alex could hear him quite clearly through the windows of the bus. The students who were on the steps looked up at the approaching bus, a few of them had eager looks on their faces, waiting for old friends to step off and greet them. Some had a slight look of disdain, for the newcomers who were here for, what they believed, was the sole purpose of ruining their harmony and concentration. The bus halted with another sudden screech and the doors swung open, the pistons letting out a relieving whoosh.

"Your bags are at the bottom of the coach. Don't push," said the bus driver his voice tired from the four hour journey from Detroit.

Alex shuffled out slowly, taking care to look at his feet rather than make eye contact with the gaggles of rough housing boys and giggling girls. The wind's freshness filled Alex up with a new unsullied energy. He walked slowly over to the side of the bus, where the luggage was waiting. A large sea of black and grey suitcases sat piled high. Alex pulled at his collar and tie, which he had wrapped tightly around his neck that morning. After a minute or two of scanning he caught sight of his Velcro black duffle and went for it with an outstretched hand. He slung the heavy bag on his shoulder, shifted his feet which were encased in a pair of shoes which were shining like the top of the Chrysler Building, and began to the main entrance.

He walked alone, in between the groups of students, catching up on the miscellaneous nothings of summer. As Alex walked ahead he saw a group of uniformed adults standing with papers in their hands, waiting for the cadets. Alex approached a particularly butch looking woman, her hair was even pasted at the side, to give the appearance of short hair.

"You do try hard," mumbled Alex to himself as he set his bag down in front of her feet.

"Name."

Alex smirked, straight to business, just the way he liked it. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

"Alexander Mahone."

"Date of Birth."

"The 12th of August 1972."

"Blood type, and special medical attention."

"Why do you need my blood type?"

She looked up from the manila file of forms and raised an eyebrow.

"People loose a lot of blood when the get shot."

Alex swallowed hard and shook out his neck. It was definitely hotter than he had remembered Virginia being.

"A Negative and no special needs."

He could feel the round hardness of his pill bottle in the pocket of his jacket, they weren't special, just a back up.

"Right. You're in Bunker 4. Orientation is at six. When the bell goes, you go."

Alex picked up his bag and turned forward, towards the long line of bunkers that were spread in front of him.

"Yes ma'am."

They were like a communists first toy bricks. Grey metal, long lines with every so often a line of bolts or a small porch where various pieces of laundry lay flapping in the wind. Unfortunately, the numbers went in reverse order so Alex started his walk at Bunker 89. He could have sworn the sun had gone from afternoon to late dusk by the time he reached his bunker. It looked…like all the others.

"Home sweet home."

It was the only thing Alex could think to say that made this shell casing a little more comforting. He walked up the three short steps that led up to the door. He could hear the boisterous woops of young men inside. He pushed open the door and a group of boys all sat on various cots or hanging from the wooden rafter above turned to stare at him.

"New Fish!"


End file.
